Midnight
by AidenB
Summary: Nick is in love with a dead girl. NS. Character death,one-shot POV. (Re-did this because I think people were confused by the summary). One use of the f-word!


Nick looked at his shoes. They weren't particularly interesting; he was just looking at them. He wanted to blank out. Focus on something other than the crippling embarrassment that was encompassing his thoughts.

It really shouldn't have bothered him so much, people all around the world got drunk, said things they didn't mean, kissed people they didn't mean to kiss. It was nothing. Why was he so irritated?

He thought back to when it had all begun. Catherine's birthday party, it was more of an engagement party. To Greg Sanders of all people, he'd found that endearing and amusing all at the same time but he hadn't said anything. He was just happy that_ they _were happy. So he'd done all the expected things, made all the right jokes, even flirted with Sara a little.

She had looked beautiful. From an objective point of view of course, the dress had caused a sensation, it was black and slinky and even Catherine had good naturedly complained that Sara was trying to show her up.

So where did it all go wrong?

He guessed it was when he'd seen Grissom talking to Sara, he'd felt jealous. _Jealous? _No, it was the beer. Or something. Whatever it was, it had made him want to drink even more, to see Grissom dangle himself before Sara and then retreat back into himself again. He hated the sadness on her face.

Maybe it was just empathy, that's right. He sympathised with her, after all he could understand.

It could have stopped there, but it didn't.

When he finally got another chance to talk to her…he cringed at the memory and kicked a locker door with his foot.

What had he said?

_You look amazing in that dress, I can't even say the things I think about doing to you in that dress. You're beautiful. You are so beautiful. _

Sara had looked at him strangely, as if she was not…disgusted but almost surprised. Then she blushed and reasoned out loud that he was drunk, she'd disappeared onto the balcony. Then what?

Nick stretched.

He'd followed her out onto the balcony, the sky twinkled with glowing white stars, Sara was stood leant over the balcony her hip tantalisingly jutting out. He walked over to her and she looked at him and asked him something.

He wished he could remember it, it had seemed important because he'd…he'd kissed her.

_I've wanted to do this for a long time. _

That wasn't true was it? He hadn't _really _said _that _had he?

Sara had smiled faintly and then to his surprise, stroked his face. Then she looked away and went back into the party. He hadn't seen her since then. He knew they would have to talk about it sooner or later.

He could apologise.

_She looked so beautiful_

Tell her it was an accident

_Smelt heavenly_

She'd understand

_She's always been there for me._

Nick realised he was in denial.

The alcohol had only been an accelerant for his emotions; he knew what he truly felt. He just couldn't hide it anymore. It had been staring him in the face for five long years now. Nothing else had mattered when she walked into his life. He just hadn't realised it.

He could see her now, that disarming smile of hers, how her hair smelt in the morning. She always…gave him something to look forward to apart from his job of course-everyday.

He chuckled and stood up.

It had been so _fucking obvious! _

Nick Stokes was in love with Sara Sidle.

He smiled softly as he realised that she probably felt the same way too.

He finally remembered what she'd said to him at the party.

_Did you mean what you said? I know you won't remember this tomorrow…or even in an hour…but I wish you would say that again. I wish you would tell me when you are sober. _

She laughed softly.

_You didn't mean it though did you? Did you?_

Then he'd kissed her

She'd touched his face, her finger tips feather light on his skin.

_I wish you meant that. Bye Nicky. _

He stood up suddenly and checked his watch. It was ten to midnight. He would go to her home and kiss her and love her and show her that he meant it. Closing his eyes happily he laughed and ran out of the locker rooms cheerfully. She loved him. She truly did.

He had to tell her, she had to know. He felt the same, she had to know.

He bumped into Warrick; his friend's face was filled with anguish. He looked at his watch again and then at Warrick. He decided he would see Sara a little later than planned; he never left a friend in need.

Nick wished he'd never asked the question. It made him feel sick every time he thought about it.

_It's Sara. _

Nick watched over Warrick's shoulder, Catherine was in her office, sobbing in Greg's arms. He heard Sara's name and looked back at Warrick.

_She's dead._

Nick asked him to repeat it, but he'd heard what he'd said. It rang in his ears for days afterwards. He saw Grissom striding swiftly into the morgue. He followed him in a confused daze. There Sara was.

Though it wasn't her anymore. She was bruised, swollen…

…_Dead_

_Car accident. _

_Was in a hurry…_

_Dead_

_Dead_

A week later at her funeral, he sat in her bedroom staring at her diary. She did love him. He cried softly, running his fingers over a photo of her, smiling her gap toothed charming smile in a beautiful summer sunshine and finally told her the truth.

He apologised for taking so long to do it and even though he whispered them at least when he left, it was in knowing that at last she knew what had taken him so long to say.

She knew.

_CXLVII._

_My love is as a fever, longing still_

_For that which longer nurseth the disease,_

_Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,_

_The uncertain sickly appetite to please._

_My reason, the physician to my love,_

_Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,_

_Hath left me, and I desperate now approve_

_Desire is death, which physic did except._

_Past cure I am, now reason is past care,_

_And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;_

_My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,_

_At random from the truth vainly express'd;_

_For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,_

_Who art as black as hell, as dark as night._

_-William Shakespeare-_


End file.
